In Reasonable Doubt
by Hollysgirl
Summary: Grissom's leadership has brought the team through some difficult times but now, as things suddenly go wrong and three of them are hurt, he finds himself doubting his abilities  and hurting the woman he loves yet again. GSR, with some YoBling.
1. C: 1

A/N This is something that has been lingering in my mind for months. I haven't had time to write it all down with starting university but now I've finally got a few days of peace. The timeline on this is a little fuzzy: I'm thinking early season 6 or, possibly even somewhere in between seasons 5 and 6.This is my first time attempting a Grissom-Sara romance (I usually write Snickers) so please be open-minded. Hopefully, I'll be able to fit in some Warrick/Catherine as well. I hope you enjoy it.

I'm South African, so my spelling is a little different here and there – but feel free to hurl mud at any bad grammar.

I'm not entirely sure who the lab director is, exactly, so I'm guessing. If you know, please correct me :). I have also invented the nature reserve so…

Disclaimer: I own nothing and gain no monetary profit whatsoever.

**In Reasonable Doubt**

**Chapter 1**

Director Carvallo scanned the file quickly before looking back up at the man seated on the other side of his desk.

"I've heard nothing but good things about you, Gil," he commented, casting a quick glance at the Assistant Lab Director, who was seated next to Grissom and frowning expectantly. He cleared his throat and continued, "Your people obviously respect you and it has certainly shown in your Supervisor Reviews." He indicated the file. "Your shift has one of the highest, if not the highest, solve rates in the country. Your unit clearly functions very effectively."

"Thank you, Robert," Grissom nodded humbly.

"That said," Carvallo continued, "You might consider putting a little more effort into admin. These reviews were a submitted week late, if you recall." He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Grissom shrugged. "We were working a triple homicide out at Lake Mead. The evidence was priority at the time."

Carvallo nodded slowly. "Don't let it happen again. You're doing remarkable work for us, Gil and I wouldn't want a little thing like paperwork to spoil it."

Grissom nodded. "Anything else?" He asked. He, Catherine and Nick were working a hot case and he was itching to get to the autopsy. He knew Catherine could cover it, but it had been a while since they'd had a hanging and he was keen to refresh his memory of the associated injuries.

"Acutally, yes," Ecklie announced, sitting forward in his chair. "We do feel that it would be a good idea to keep a tighter rein on you CSIs, especially after the recent incidents with Sidle and Stokes."

"What happened to Nick was unforeseeable," Grissom started.

"But the way Sidle acted was reckless," Ecklie countered, clearly still bitter after his confrontation with the fiery CSI.

Grissom sat forward in his chair, matching Ecklie. "There wasn't a problem with my supervision a few moments ago."

Ecklie scowled, "Just keep an eye on them Grissom. You've gotten by, letting them freely follow hunches, some of which, I concede, came through for us. But sooner or later, things are going to go very wrong if you don't step up as a supervisor and take control."

"Is this a personal opinion, Conrad?" Grissom asked coolly.

Sensing the time to intervene, Director Carvallo leaned forward in his chair and put his arms out on the desk in front of him, fingers interlaced. "It's an observation, Gil. Give it some thought. Just keep a closer eye on your team for the next few weeks. It seems that lab is under a lot of pressure of late and none of us wants to see another CSI buried alive."

He let his words hang in the air, and penetrate the anger of both men. If the two agreed on nothing else, which seemed to be the case, they would at least agree on this. An awkward silence gripped the room for a moment as both men accepted once more the reality of what had happened. Feeling the situation had been suitably diffused, Carvallo rose from his seat and held out his hand to Grissom, who followed suit and shook it.

"Good work Gil. Keep that team of yours going strong," he said with a nod.

Grissom arrived back at the lab with mixed feelings. He felt happy – and a little vindicated – to have been complimented so highly by the Director, but there was a troubling sensation nagging at his pleasure. What had happened to Nick had been haunting everyone on the night shift in one way or another. It had been a harrowing experience and Grissom could not tolerate the thought of it happening to anyone else on his team. We might not be so lucky next time, he thought. Dread flooded his senses as an image of Sara trapped in the glass coffin invaded his mind. Dirty, terrified, broken. Grissom felt a shiver run through him and he shook the image off. He wouldn't let that happen to any of his CSIs. For the first time in years, Grissom felt a spark of protectiveness. He wanted to protect his team from harm, and hell, since Sara's run-in with Ecklie a few weeks earlier, from the Assistant Director as well.

"Any messages?" Grissom asked, stopping at the reception desk.

"Here you go, Dr. Grissom," Judy said, handing him a few slips of paper. She lifted a small glass box onto the desk and pulled her hand away from it quickly, visibly cringing. "A Dr. Crichton dropped this off for you while you were gone. He said he couldn't wait but he left you this note," she added, dropping a white envelope beside the box.

"Great. Thank you Judy," Grissom smiled. He removed the box, lifting it to his face to peer inside.

"Hello Marvin," he said to the spider lurking on one of the small stones within. The creature was about 1,2cm long, with a dark brown violin-shaped marking on its cephalothorax. "Welcome to Vegas."

Moving down the passage to his office, Grissom spotted Nick in the layout room. Catherine wasn't there and he checked his watch. Robbins had paged them about the autopsy 20 minutes ago so she was probably there now. He'd most likely missed most of it already, so he made a mental note to head over later to have a look at the body. Grissom turned towards the break room. Sara and Greg had been there when he'd left for his meeting with the directors and he doubted they would have moved since. Since completing his proficiency, Greg had been taking some time to find his feet and Nick's kidnapping had thrown him completely. Where he'd previously been confident, he now seemed unsure and often turned to the others for advice instead of following his own (perfectly correct) conclusions. Being his mentor, Sara had thrown herself into getting him back to being a confident CSI: she'd done a stellar job so far, Grissom noted, and the two clearly worked well together. Lately, however, he had noticed her fading. She was so determined that Greg got the best guidance possible to succeed on his first cases, that she'd ended up overexerting herself; doing her own work and overseeing most of Greg's. He had no doubt that she was tiring; not even Sara was invulnerable. In the past, he would have left her, knowing that she'd stop when things got too much for her, but now, with Ecklie's words weighing heavily on his mind, he decided to check on how she was doing. He'd given her and Greg the case of a 13-year old who appeared to have fallen from the tenth floor of a hotel room. He'd had no choice at the time, even though he suspected it would trouble Sara, because they'd been tapped out.

She and Greg were seated at the table, where they'd been before, a perfect example of lunchtime at CSI. Greg was sipping cola through a long orange straw from a can in his left hand and drawing an enlarged crime scene schematic with his right. Sara had the crime scene photos laid out in front of her and was munching on a cold slice of pizza while scribbling notes on a desk pad. Grissom's eyes floated over her jeans and black tank top, which left her shoulders exposed and, for a moment, his focus shifted solely to her slender form. She was lean – almost too much so – and fine featured, with long, slim fingers and a number of curves that a man could easily get lost in. Despite her height and strong personality, there was a well-hidden weakness in Sara that constantly intrigued Grissom. She demanded respect and justice, but, it was in her eyes that Grissom often saw the deepest pain and disappointment. She was an enigma, and that only attracted him more.

For years, he'd denied himself the possibility of unravelling the puzzle that was Sara Sidle. He'd feared that, if he started, he'd never be able to stop. He'd hurt her in the process, though how deeply he could not tell. She concealed most of her emotions at the lab, and let them loose, to Grissom's amazement, only when they related to cases. It was through Sara's total absorption into her work that Grissom had been able to discover how she had changed since moving from San Francisco. The friendly, quick-witted California girl seemed to withdraw into herself more and more over the years and the once mischievous sparkle in her eyes had evolved into something far more profound. Devoted, genial, intense, incisive. Hurt. That was how he described Sara.

After the lab explosion, she'd needed his support –he'd panicked and refused. For months after that, it'd seemed as if they lived in two different worlds. Talking, but not really _saying_ anything to each other. Just when he thought that he'd hurt her beyond all consolation with his rejections over the years, she'd asked him to breakfast. And he'd said yes. That had been two months ago, the night of Nick's kidnapping, and since then, they'd begun sharing meals more frequently.

"How's the case going?" Grissom asked casually as he entered the room. He put the spider's box down on the desk next to Sara, who kept her head down and continued writing.

"Not too bad," she said, pausing and frowning at the photo in front of her. She looked up and a half-smile dug a dimple in the side of her mouth, "Something's missing here."

He peered over her shoulder at the photos. "Did you look for inconsistencies in the paint scrapes on this railing?" he asked, pointing to the photo. Sara was quiet for a moment, aware only of the proximity of their faces and his warm chest against her back. She blinked a few times to divert the feelings and sighed.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "We found ten long scratches here," she ran her finger along the picture to point them out, "and guessed they're from ten fingers. Someone hanging on. But," she placed a printed sheet on top, "Trace confirmed that the paint chips we found under Cassie William's fingernails are not a match the paint on the railing.

"Hmmm," Grissom continued scanning the pages. "Has the hotel done any repainting lately?"

"I called and the owner says the last time they painted the balcony railings was two years ago. And all with the same paint."

Greg looked up from his page, opening his mouth to talk but stopping when his eyes fell on the glass box.

"Er…Gris? Who's in the box?"

"An ambassador from the genus _Loxosceles_: Brown Recluse spider. A friend sent this little guy to me for my collection," Grissom beamed with pride. He flipped the lid open, tilting the box so Greg could see the spider more clearly. "He's a fiddleback spider, but I think I'll call him Marvin."

Greg shifted his chair away. "Is _he_ poisonous?"

Grissom frowned at his reaction, "Everything is poisonous to something, Greg."

"Hey Grissom!" Catherine announced her entry to the room and headed for the fridge. "How was the review?"

He shrugged back, putting down the box and took a seat beside Sara, "Ecklie was there. Life goes on as normal."

"Good," Catherine said, "'Cause we need to go back out to the reserve."

"The Forberg Reserve?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, you know it?" Catherine asked, leaning back against the counter.

Sara nodded, "What's your case?"

"Male vic was found hanging in a tree. We assumed strangulation or a spinal fracture as COD but I just got back from the prelim," she turned to Grissom, "and he exsanguinated."

Grissom's eyes widened, "He bled out? From where? There was no blood on the body."

"The doc found deep puncture wounds in his toes. Hence, no blood," Catherine said with a shrug.

"Is that even possible?" Sara asked, "There exactly aren't any major veins or arteries in the toes."

"Exactly. So we need to see if he bled out at the scene or elsewhere. He may have just been dumped there," Catherine said.

Outside, a loud clap of thunder sounded. "And fast," Grissom added.

"Nick's on his way to get the car now," Catherine said.

"Good. Did the doc have a TOD?" Grissom asked.

"Not yet, it was only the prelim." Catherine replied.

Grissom told Catherine to arrange for a few uniforms to accompany them, then retreated to his office. He dropped into his chair and his eyes fell on the mountain of paperwork he'd been putting off for the last few days. With a sigh, he reached for the top sheet. It was Sara's report from her last case. All he really had to do was read over it and sign it off, but he took his time scanning her wavy script and wondering what it might reveal about her personality. The image from earlier of her in the glass coffin suddenly popped back into his head and he began to wonder why she was the first one he'd pictured. It could have happened to any one of the team. Why Sara? He knew the answer, but refused to admit it to himself. He signed the report and reached for the next one. It was Warrick's application to attend an out-of-town conference and Grissom took his time scanning it.

"I called PD," Catherine announced, entering his office. "There's a hostage situation just off the strip so they don't have uniforms to spare. Brass is at a scene with Warrick and Sophia's away for the week."

Grissom frowned, then shrugged, "So take Nicky and go anyway."

She raised an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Catherine, you and I both know how crucial this is to the case. We need that soil and-"

"-the longer it stays out there, the less credible it is in court. I get it," she finished, nodding.

"I'll call Brass and have him meet you out there as soon as he's done," Grissom said.

"Thanks."

"Good luck. And Cath?" Grissom glanced at his watch. "No overtime tonight. When shift ends, go home and spend some time with Lindsay."

"Greg?" Sara frowned at the photograph of the hotel in front of her. "How do we know this kid fell from her hotel room?"

Greg frowned, "She had to have fallen from somewhere."

"What about the roof?" Sara handed him the photograph. "Look at it in this shot I took of the whole hotel building. There's nothing up there. No railing, or anything to stop a person from falling."

"And there's definitely a door onto the roof!" Greg added, growing in excitement as he caught Sara's train of thought. "I saw the sign for in when we were in the lift."

"You know-" Sara was interrupted by her beeper going off. She groaned and pulled it from her belt, "Doc Robbins has finished posting the body. Lets go."

She stood and piled up the photos and notes before sliding them into the case file.

"You know, if she did fall from the roof, we could use the surveillance footage from the elevator to check out potential suspects," Greg said as he rose from his seat and folded up his drawing.

Sara picked up her jersey off the chair beside her own and pulled it over her head. "Good thinking, Greg," She smiled proudly, "That might also help us to rule out whether it was a suicide or a murder. I wonder if there's a camera on the roof."

"Indeed, my dear," Greg flashed her a suave smile and they left the room, not noticing the still-open spider box on the table.

A/N It's a slow start BUT stay tuned. There's plenty action in the next chapter. And please leave a review: I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	2. C: 2

**To those of you who took the time to review: thank you very very much. And to those who put me on alert without leaving reviews... thanks. I'm flattered. Now review :)!**

**To Black Tulip: You've got me worried now. I think I'm about to disapoint you but I hope you enjoy the ride anyway. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one, even if it comes as a let down to you.**

**Chapter 2**

Sara squeezed the dull pain starting in her shoulder as she and Greg watched Doc Robbins remove the white sheet from the victim.

"Young Cassie has a displaced fracture to the femur, a crushed skull, several broken ribs and a compound fracture to the humerus," Robbins explained, pointing out the various abrasions and lacerations.

"All consistent with a fall," Greg intoned. Robbins nodded in agreement. "So possibly suicide?" Greg asked, casting a questioning glance at Sara.

"Maybe. But I think it's unlikely," she replied. "Look at the cuts on her face. She was wearing her glasses when she fell. Most jumpers prefer not to see the ground rushing up at them." Sara's mind drifted back to the day she'd arrived in Vegas. Grissom had told her exactly the same thing. It seemed like an age ago. Back then, she hadn't known what a rough ride she was in for with Grissom: years of uncertainty and doubt –hurt, that had often left her feeling betrayed and exposed. If I'd known then what I know now, Sara thought, I'd still have moved to Vegas. A ripple of excitement rushed through her as she thought of their planned breakfast for after shift. It was so good to be connecting with Grissom again, to be able to chat and laugh as they had back in San Francisco. After the lab explosion, they'd found themselves in far too many uncomfortable situations and she'd begun to give up hope of ever being close to him again – until he'd shown up on her doorstep the day Ecklie suspended her. The hope for something a little more serious constantly lingered in her mind, but, for the moment, Sara was happy to just be comfortable with Grissom. Over the last few weeks, he'd become visibly more at ease in her presence. He'd begun sharing himself with her again, offering wry smiles and challenging her to guess who'd said the words he often quoted. To Sara, it was Heaven.

"Sara's right," Doc Robbins confirmed. He gestured to a deep purple bruise on the girl's neck. "Chances are, somebody killed her. COD is asphyxiation. All the other injuries are post-mortem. Squeezed and dumped."

Sara was silent for a moment, feeling immense pity for the small, broken girl on the table before her while simultaneously building a mental list of suspects. She was considering the possibility of a boyfriend when a sudden wave of nausea swept over her. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. For a moment, dizziness seized her mind and she lost track of the floor. Her hand gripped the side of the table in a desperate attempt to keep her upright. After a few more deep breaths, the feeling began to fade.

"Sara?" Greg's voice was tentative and she opened her eyes to find both him and Doc Robbins frowning at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said vaguely, "I just…need a little air." She turned to Greg, "Can you finish up here?"

"Sure," Greg nodded slowly, concern written across his face.

"Thanks. Thanks Doc," Sara said. She squeezed Greg's hand and waved to Robbins before turning and making a quick - albeit unsteady - exit.

Doc Robbins frowned as the door swung closed. "Hmmm," his voice trailed off.

"Doc?" Greg raised a questioning eyebrow at the coroner's reaction.

"Sara has never walked out of an autopsy before, no matter how gruesome it's been. This case is child's play compared to the wrecked shells of people she's seen on my table. I wonder what's up."

Greg shrugged, "She worked a triple yesterday, so she's probably tired. Shift's almost over so I'll make sure she's okay as soon as we're done here."

x

It was going to be a moody day in Nevada. Menacing grey clouds hulked in the sky above Las Vegas and its surrounds, allowing little of the rising sunlight to show. The result was a dim, almost too-dark day.

Lightning stabbed across the sky, illuminating the trees with a blinding white and casting jagged shadows over the clearing in the trees of the Forberg Nature Reserve. A crack of thunder followed and Catherine Willows jumped, flashing her eyes over the trees as if something was about to spring out of them. She squinted, trying to force her eyes to focus in the dim light of dawn. Something felt…off.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it but something about the reserve had changed – and it was unnerving her. Nearby, Nick Stokes crouched down and shone his flashlight over the soil. He cast a glance up at the tall tree above them and sighed then pulled his gloves from his vest proceeded to pull them on.

"Hey Cath!" he called, "Could you pass me that specimen jar?"

When there came no answer, her turned around on his haunches and found her scrutinising the surrounding trees with narrowed eyes.

"Catherine?" he called to her, raising his voice slightly to break through her daze.

She spun around, "What? Oh…sorry!" She shook her head, "What did you say?"

"Specimen jar please," Nick pointed to his target.

"Sure," Catherine said as she tossed it to him and cast a glance over her shoulder.

"Something wrong Cath?" Nick questioned, frowning slightly at her behaviour.

"Just a little spooky out here without a uniforn, you know? Weather's creepy. It's not supposed to be this dark at 7am,"she explained with a nervous shrug.

"I'll be done in a jiff," Nick said, scooping soil into the specimen jar.

Somewhere in the trees, a twig cracked, Catherine jumped and quickly clicked on her flashlight and scanned the trees. Nick chuckled and sat back to close the jar. It was totally out of character for Catherine to be this nervous. She was normally so straight-laced that a simple twig snapping would have gone unnoticed or been scoffed.

"Don't be scared. You're out here with a strapping Texan with a 9 milimetre," he grinned winningly at her over his shoulder and she let out a wry chuckle.

"Call it womens' intuition, but I thi-" Her retort was interrupted by a bullet that zipped through the air and hit the ground a metre from her. Catherine shrieked and leapt backwards. Nick's hand immediately went to his gun and he stood, aiming blindly at the trees.

"What the hell?!" Catherine uttered, shining her torch where his gun was aimed.

Suddenly, a second bullet flew through the air, knocking Nick's gun from his hand. He stared down at it in shock until a bullet zipped past his head.

"Catherine!" he shouted, "Run!"

Bullets rained down on them now, sending leaves and dirt flying up at their heels. Nick was ahead by a few feet and cast a backwards glance over his shoulder. Catherine was frantically tugging her phone out of her CSI vest pocket as she ran. She flipped it open and let out an instinctive shriek as a bullet missed her, embedding itself in a nearby tree. She jammed her finger onto the button to call for help but was silenced by a gunshot that hit her on the right side of her torso. With a cry of pain, she spun to the ground and skidded to a halt behind a big pile of leaves. Her phone flew from her hands, immediately lost in the fallen brown foliage.

"Catherine!" Nick cried, quickly turning back. The bullets stopped suddenly and the only sound that could be heard was the rustle of leaves around Nick's feet and his laboured breathing. He fell to the ground beside his fallen partner and reached to check her pulse. She lay facedown in the leaves, out cold. He froze when he heard with click of a stock in front of him.

"Stop righ' there," a deep voice growled. Nick looked up to see a figure clad – predictably – in black, pointing a gun at him. He raised his arms slowly.

"Now ge' up!" The figure commanded. With a reluctant glance at Catherine, Nick obeyed and took a cautious step back.

"Tha's righ'. Now back up real slow."

"Lets just take it easy here," Nick started, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

"Shut up an' move back!"

Nick hesitated, then took another step and continued, "Listen, you don't know what you're doing-"

"I said shut up!" The man roared, pulling the trigger. The bullet hit Nick square in the chest and he stumbled backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs and his centre of gravity totally offset. Suddenly, there was no ground beneath his feet and he found himself falling. When he hit the bottom of the pit, a sharp pain raced through his leg before he blacked out completely.

x

Sara leaned with both hands on the basin in the ladies' room and took a deep breath. The momentary dizziness had returned and built to a huge whirlpool of nausea, swirling dangerously at the back of her throat. She turned the tap on, wet her hands and put them against her cheeks. The coolness was soothing and, for a few moments, the nausea seemed to fade. She cast her eyes up to the mirror in front of her and chuckled wryly at her flushed appearance.

"Shouldn't have eaten that leftover pizza for lunch," she muttered at her dishevelled reflection.

Beneath her fingers, her face was burning and Sara ran her hands through her hair, praying the feeling would pass. Instead, a fresh wave of nausea crashed down over her and she tore herself from the sink and emptied her stomach into the toilet of the nearest cubicle. When it finally subsided, Sara stepped back and stood with her back against the cubicle divider. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _All this from day-old pizza?_ Her mind questioned. She sighed. This was all she needed before her breakfast with Grissom. She was determined not to cancel on him, lest he panic and withdraw back into himself: she did not want a repeat of the last three years! It was amazing her that he had even agreed to her invitations and she certainly did not want to ruin what was building into a most enjoyable tradition. The renewing of their mutual trust of one another had been a long process and Sara was not going to allow old pizza to disrupt it.

The nausea seemed to have faded since losing her lunch so she held her head high and exited the cubicle with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. She rinsed out her mouth and splashed some more water onto her face. She was hot, as if she had fever, but guessed it was just a side effect of the bad pizza which, she hoped, would soon fade considering that it was no longer in her body.

Shift was officially ending in 10 minutes so she decided to head home to get a headstart on the pancakes she'd promised Grissom. He'd said he'd meet her at her apartment after shift so she doubted he'd mind if she left a few minutes. As she reached for the door handle to exit the bathroom, Sara felt a strange chill settle over her body. She rubbed her upper arms and made a mental note to pull an extra jacket on over her sweater before leaving.

x

"Yeah, I'm on my way," Jim Brass said into his cell phone. "I've got two officers with me. Don't sweat it. I'm sure they're fine."

"_Well shift's ending so when you get there, tell them to go home. No doubles tonight. I want the team at home resting_," Grissom's voice came over the line.

Brass frowned. Grissom, king of the workplace, outdone occasionally by Sara, was banning overtime?

"That must have been some review tonight, huh?" Brass teased.

Grissom's voice showed no amusement, "_Just tell them Jim._"

"Okay," Brass sighed, turning into the parking lot of the Reserve. Suddenly, his car lights caught a dark figure and his blood ran cold. The figure, dressed fully in black, was carrying a clearly unconscious CSI Willows, bound, towards the open boot of an old Ford truck. He jammed his foot on the break.

"Gil! Call the EMTs now!" he barked into the phone, "Things have gone wrong!" He grabbed his gun and leapt from the car, on the tail of the two officers who were in the car with him.

"LVPD! Freeze!" he shouted.

The man spun around and immediately dropped Catherine. A surge of anger flooded through the detective at seeing his friend so carelessly dropped.

"Hey! Gently!" he snapped. "Now put your hands where we can see them!"

The man offered little resistance and the officers were quick to cuff him. Sirens sounded in the distance and Brass knelt to tend to Catherine. She was breathing, but also badly scratched up. He removed the ropes from her hands and pulled her onto his lap, shaking her gently. "Catherine? Wake up," he tried softly. His hand moved over her back and suddenly grazed something cold. It was then that he noticed the bullet embedded firmly in her vest.

"Damn…" his voice trailed off. "Thank God someone listened to me when I told them to make these damn utility vests of yours bulletproof."

In the distance, the red lights of the EMTs' vehicles drew closer and Brass cast his eyes around the lot in search of Nick. But the Texan was nowhere in sight.

A/N And so ends another chapter. This one was a bit busy but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I'd love to know what you think :)


	3. C: 3

**A/N At last, I'm back to update. I actually wanted to have this up sooner but FanFiction wasn't uploading for some reason. I apologise profusely for the delay - I'm fighting through some man trouble at the moment (and have a ton of tests coming up) so I'll update asap. **

Thank you all for your reveiws - they mean the world to me x x

**Chapter 3**

Grissom took a deep breath as he put down his phone after calling the dispatcher. What were the chances of this happening to Nick and Catherine on the one night that PD was tapped out? The one night that he'd insisted they take a chance. Guilt began bubbling through his body. His more logical side was insistent that they could not have predicted the attack and that the evidence was priority. Another part of him could only hear Ecklie's words echoing in his head like a broken record: _step up as a supervisor; things will go very wrong_. The rest of him would have none of it. The one thing he'd learned from this job was the unpredictability of life: he should have known better than to risk his CSIs in the name of evidence. But wasn't that what they did everyday? Grissom pushed the issue from his mind, deciding to first attend to Catherine and Nick before jumping to conclusions.

He rolled down his car window upon spotting Greg and Warrick coming out of the lab, dressed for home.

"Hey guys!" he yelled to them, "You'd better get in the car. Something's happened to Nick and Catherine!"

The two hurried over, frowning, and climbed into the 4x4, Warrick in the passenger seat and Greg in the back. Grissom immediately started the engine and turned his head around to reverse from his parking spot.

"Griss? What's happened?" Warrick asked as Grissom put the Tahoe in drive and pulled out of the lot.

"I don't know exact details yet, but it had Brass panicking when he met them in the reserve," Grissom said vaguely. His phone rang suddenly and he pulled it from his belt and flipped it open while keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

"Brass? Talk to me."

"_Thanks for the quick response. The EMTs got here pretty quick._"

"Tell me what happened. Are Catherine and Nick alright?" Grissom said into the phone, his voice serious.

On the other end of the line, Brass sighed. "_I caught our perp trying to abduct Catherine. He was stuffing her in the trunk of his truck when I arrived_."

"Is she okay?" Grissom interrupted, frowning darkly.

"_She was shot but her vest took it so she'll just be a bit bruised. She's still unconscious and a bit scratched up but she'll be fine. The EMTs are checking her now_."

"And Nick?" Grissom's voice was grim, matching his expression and Warrick cast a look back at Greg that plainly said 'something bad's gone down'

"_We can't find him Gil,_" Brass sighed. "_The guy won't say a word and we can't exactly ask Cath._"

"I'm on my way with Warrick and Greg. I'll be there as soon as I can," Grissom hung up and pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

"Griss?" Warrick asked.

"What happened?" Greg added.

"It appears the suspect returned to the scene. He shot Catherine in the vest and tried to kidnap her. They can't find Nick." Grissom explained, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Is she okay?" Warrick asked immediately, concern in his voice.

"She's unconscious. The medics are busy with her now."

"Christ," Greg's voice was soft, surprising the older CSIs. "Nick missing again…"

Grissom said nothing, but pushed his foot down harder, weaving through the early morning commuter traffic on the Strip. He pulled out his phone, glancing between it and the road and hit 3 on speed dial. Sara's phone rang a few times before going to voicemail.

"Sara, it's me. Catherine and Nick were attacked in the reserve. She's hurt and they can't find him so the guys and I are heading over there. Call me when you get this. I want you there as well." He wanted to add an apology for having to cancel their breakfast, or at least, to tell her how much he'd been looking forward to it but he held back: the team didn't know about their stolen breakfasts yet and this was not the right way for them to find out.

A long drive and a number of traffic offences later, Grissom found himself looking at the pale face of Catherine Willows as she lay prone on a stretcher, covered in emergency blankets and waiting to be loaded into the ambulance. Her skin was ashen, marked by a number of nasty scratches down her right cheek and dried leaves were caught in her hair. She was still unconscious and her peaceful expression seemed out of place amidst so much chaos.

An EMT came walking over then, with Warrick not far behind and Grissom turned to the young CSI. "Warrick, I want you to go to the hospital with Catherine. Keep me posted. I'll be there as soon as we find Nick."

Warrick nodded and turned to follow the medic, now loading the stretcher into a nearby ambulance.

Grissom returned to Brass, who was leaning against his car and frowning, obviously deep in thought.

"Sanders went out with the cadets to search for Nicky. The perp's been taken down to PD." He paused for a minute, and then looked over at Grissom's grim expression. "Isn't one of the gang missing? Where's Sara?"

Grissom frowned. That was a good question. Normally, he'd assume she'd possibly be sleeping, or out somewhere, but they'd had plans. Surely she'd have called to find out where he was, even if she didn't get his message.

"I left a message for her to call me."

"Maybe she didn't get it."

"That is possible, but unlikely," Grissom glanced at his watch. Shift had been finished for nearly two hours and, by now, he expected Sara to have called. What if she thinks I'm blowing her off? his mind suddenly wondered. After all he'd put her through, it was not unlikely. Panic rose in him and he pulled his cell phone out to double check that she'd not sent a message. He checked his beeper too, but found nothing.

"Either way," Brass continued, looking out at the trees, "You should probably try calling her again. She's got a sharp eye, that kid. Might do Nick some good or, at least, she'll be able to help Greg. He's been looking a little overwhelmed."

Grissom nodded in agreement and pressed 3 on his phone for the second time that night.

"Quick! We need a medic in here!" a voice shouted from the trees. A few seconds later, Greg and a cadet came hurtling out into the parking lot, the latter leading two EMTs back in while the other headed for Grissom and the captain.

"I found him!" he exclaimed, panting and leaning over to catch his breath. Grissom hung up his phone immediately and let loose a sigh of relief. His full attention went to Greg.

"Where? Is he okay?" As long as he's not in a glass coffin, Grissom's mind intoned.

"In a 10 foot deep pit. He's scratched up from the fall – there's a lot of roots there- and he's been shot. In the vest, like Cath." He added the last bit quickly, lest they panic.

"Thank God," Brass let out a sigh of relief.

"Do they need help getting him out?" Grissom asked, casting a glance at the trees.

"I tried, but the guys told me to clear off. We'd just be in the way," Greg said.

Grissom cast a glance at the young man, covered in leaves and dirt.

"How did you find him?"

"I started from the point where the body was originally found. Their kits were there so I figured he might be nearby. I followed disturbed leaves and footsteps where I could make them out. It wasn't all that hard, considering how many shell casings are on the ground. There was a huge pile of leaves – I thought someone might have fallen there- and that pointed straight to the pit."

Grissom nodded with approval, "Nice work Greg. Sara would be very proud of you."

"Where is she?" the younger man asked, straightening up. "She okay?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" Grissom frowned, as a familiar tension began to niggle in his gut.

Greg explained, "She ran out of our autopsy at the end of shift. Said she wasn't feeling well. I couldn't find her when I finished up with the doc so I assumed she'd spoken to you and gone home."

"Hmmm," Grissom felt a slow dread building up in him as a hundred possibilities of what could have happened to her began to run through his mind. None of them were pleasant. He pulled out his cell phone and dialled her number. After a few rings, the voicemail asked him to leave a message and he hung up. With building panic, he dialled her home number. That, he knew, she would always answer.

"_Hi!_"

"Sara-"

"- _you've reached Sara. I'm not home- you know the drill._" The machine beeped and Grissom growled in frustration.

"Sara! If you're home, pick up. I need to know that you're okay. Please pick up the phone."

No answer came.

"Sara. Please pick up. I heard from Greg that you-" His words were cut off by a second beep from the machine.

"Damn!" he swore.

"Not answering?" Greg raised a questioning eyebrow. Grissom nodded. "Well, maybe she's in the bathroom. Or sleeping. Our case hasn't exactly been clouds and roses so far."

Brass pushed himself off the car. "I'm going to head over to PD. If something happens, or you need anything, call me."

He'd obviously been feeling useless and so, needed to be doing something – anything – that seemed as if it would help Nick and Catherine. He was now planning to head back and give the man responsible hell.

x

Warrick gently ran his hand along Catherine's cheek, pushing a stray strand of strawberry hair out of her face. She frowned and blinked a few times, looking up at him quizzically as the fog in her mind faded with her return to consciousness.

"Warrick?" she asked softly, squinting.

"Hey," he replied gently, offering a sympathetic smile. "How you feeling?"

She took a moment to consider, and then replied, "Sore…Where's Nicky?"

He swallowed, unsure of what to say. He was saved, however, by a medic leaning over to examine Catherine, now that she was awake. When the man was done he moved away and took a seat on the opposite side of the ambulance.

"It's good to see you awake." Warrick returned his attention to Catherine, ignoring her previous question. You had us worried."

"It's just good to see you," she responded with a smile and wink.

Warrick smiled bashfully and slipped his hand under the blankets to squeeze her fingers. Her smile widened and she squeezed back

x

Grissom watched, as Nick was loaded into a second ambulance. The Texan was unconscious – and no doubt medicated – and covered in scratches.

"So off to Desert Palms?" Greg's voice asked from beside Grissom.

"Yeah," Grissom nodded. He frowned at his phone. There had still been no word from Sara and his worry was building. "Yeah. But we're going to make a stop on the way. Call Warrick and give him the heads up on Nick."

"What about the evidence?" Greg tilted his head towards the trees.

"I'll call Dayshift to get it," Grissom said firmly. "I'm putting my team first. Lets go."

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of Sara's apartment building.

"There's her car," Greg pointed at the dark blue SUV. "She's gotta be here."

When they reached apartment 9, Greg hung back while Grissom stepped up to the front door and knocked.

"Sara?" he called. He waited a few moments, and then knocked again. Still no reply came. They could hear music playing inside, but no movement – no Sara. Grissom frowned and looked to Greg, who cocked his head to one side. He quickly sensed his boss's unease and bent to reach under the welcome mat. His hand closed around the cool metal of Sara's hidden spare key and he stood up, proudly handing it to Grissom.

"Gave Sara a lift home a couple months back. She'd left her key at the lab," Greg said with a shrug. Grissom said nothing, but the look in his eyes puzzled Greg. Was that suspicion coming from his boss? Greg shrugged off. He got plenty of strange looks from Grissom, few of which he understood.

Grissom unlocked the door, then paused to knock one final time. When no answer came, he pushed the door open and put his head inside.

"Sara?" he called, letting the door swing open. He took a step inside and scanned the room. It was empty, but showed obvious signs that Sara was – or had been – there. A glass mixing bowl stood on the counter, next to a CD player which was on and belting out something Grissom knew he should recognise, but didn't.

My, my, baby blue I been thinkin' bout you my, my, baby blue 

_Yeah you're so jaded_

_And I'm the one that jaded you_

"Aerosmith," Greg said from behind him, nodding with approval. "Good stuff, great song; ironic, considering you're in here while it's on." He raised a meaningful eyebrow at his boss, which was quickly lowered by a stern frown from Grissom.

Sara's keys and cell phone were on the kitchen counter and a pair of high-heeled boots stood neatly beside the couch. Grissom took a step into the room and his eyes immediately fell on a group of photo frames arranged on the counter next to a fruit bowl containing a few apples. He let his eyes scan over them. One was a picture of Sara and a blonde whom he didn't recognise wearing academic robes and caps. It was obviously her graduation from Harvard for, at the bottom, embossed in gold were the words: "Valedictorian Sara Sidle and Monica Jones: Physics Honours Cum Laude". Grissom felt a strange wave of pride wash over him. That's my girl, he thought before suddenly catching himself and shaking his head. _My girl?!_ He put the photograph down and turned away, feeling intrusive.

My my baby blue I been thinkin' bout you my my baby blue 

_Yeah I'm so jaded_

_And baby I'm afraid of you_

Greg suddenly went over to the CD player and turned it down. He picked up the glass bowl, which had a wooden spoon resting in it, and sniffed the pale mixture inside.

"Mmm, pancake batter. Cranberry and almond if my nose doesn't deceive me," he said with a smile. "Seems fresh."

Grissom said nothing and nodded. Sara had been making pancakes for their breakfast. They'd been discussing trying something new and she'd promised to surprise him. He'd never expected for a moment that she'd do it, not because she was dishonourable, but because she held reputation for the second worst cook in the lab – beaten only by Hodges. Forensic Physics was her forte, not food. For a moment, his gut twisted with guilt at the though of how much effort she'd probably put into their failed meal. He turned away from Greg and headed for the bedroom.

He knocked and pressed his ear to the door, hoping for an answer.

"Sara?" he called to the empty apartment. He pushed the door open and peered inside. He'd never actually seen the inside of her bedroom before and allowed his eyes to drink in the dark mahogany furniture, white duvet and deep red waffle weave throw and taffeta cushions, Nice contrast, he thought. The room appeared empty and his eyes lingered on the sleigh bed, his identity as a man briefly overcoming the scientist in him. Sara's bed. The one place that she let her guard down totally, allowed herself to be vulnerable and oblivious to the world. He wondered if she'd had any male visitors to this room, but shook the thought off almost immediately, disgusted with the notion.

His gaze moved down from the bed to the carpet and his heart jumped. Poking out from behind the edge of the bed was a pair of white-sock-clad feet.

"Sara," Grissom surged into the room and swiftly skirted the bed to where she was on the floor. She lay on her side, still wearing her clothes from work, though she'd obviously removed her jersey, as it lay across the bed. He knelt beside her, eyes dashing over her body. Her hair, straight with a gentle curl at the bottom, covered half of her face and neck and her arms lay lifeless, one on the floor in front of her, the other awkwardly pinned behind her. In order to check her pulse, he grasped her free wrist, holding her limp hand in his. It was warm and he put a hand on her forehead. The temperature he felt there was way above normal: fever, no doubt.

"Sara!" he shook her gently, praying that she would wake.

"Honey, wake up," he repeated. But the woman in front of him remained unresponsive

He leaned over her and brushed her hair out of her face. It was then that he noticed a cut of about 2cm on her forehead, with a dark bruise developing around it. Grissom's eyes darted to the bedside table at her head. A small amount of blood on the edge confirmed his suspicions.

"You hit your head," he mumbled softly, gently running his finger around the edge of the bruise.

"Oh my God. Sara!" Greg's voice came from the doorway and he turned to see the young CSI frozen, eyes scanning the brunette in an obvious panic.

"Greg!" Grissom said firmly to catch his attention. "Call an ambulance. She's feverish and possibly has a concussion."

The young man managed to focus and nodded obediently, already pulling out his phone.

Grissom's eyes went straight back to Sara then. He pulled her into his lap and brushed the hair away from her neck to check her blood pressure. But as soon as his eyes fell on her exposed skin, his blood ran cold. At the base of her neck were two small white blisters. The skin around them was swollen and red. He immediately turned back to Greg, now talking on the phone.

"Greg!" he barked, "Hurry!" He pointed to the blisters "These are Brown Recluse spider bites!"

Greg's eyes widened and he nodded, turning and moving from the room as he shouted down the phone.

Grissom's attention went back to Sara and he put his arms around her, hugging her like a child would hold onto a teddy bear. Whether it was to comfort her or himself, he didn't know. Keep the bite elevated: above the heart, his logical side reminded him as he tried to remember everything he'd learnt about Brown Recluse spiders. _One of four species of spider whose venom is lethal to humans. Bites are almost impossible to feel._ Oh God, Sara. _Spider only bites if it feels trapped or threatened. They commonly crawl into clothing, seeking a warm, dark place._ Sara. Please be okay.

His eyes scanned her face, searching for life. She looked like a porcelain doll now: frail and perfect, with her cheeks flushed a deep pink and dark eyelashes splayed over smooth peachy skin. She frowned and let out an uneasy whine, twisting weakly in his arms before falling still and silent once more. He began to run his hand over her hair, hoping to offer some comfort. It was soft and warm and he wondered why he'd never touched it before, why he'd never held her like he was now. A sudden wave of renewed guilt washed over him, like a wave breaking on a forgotten sand castle and his strength crumbled beneath it. I forgot Marvin in the break room, he now realised. I left him right next to you. Not half a metre from you. This is my fault. Suddenly, Grissom began to wonder if –God help him- there had been some truth in Ecklie's words. He had been careless in forgetting Marvin in the break room when the case had swept him up and Sara had been hurt because of it. He'd pushed to get evidence and put it before Catherine and Nick's personal safety. He'd been so focused on the case…

And then realisation hit. He always put work first. His personal life had nigh vanished because he spent so much time focused on work – and anything close to a relationship that he'd had had started at the lab. It hadn't been a problem in the past. It was never a bad thing that he permanently had his nose down a microscope. He'd been…happy, hadn't he? He'd certainly not been hurt. But now Grissom saw it, as clear as daylight. He realised that withdrawing and focusing on facts could also hurt his team, badly. Then and there, he resolved to put more time into them, especially Sara who, he now realised, had been trying to draw him out for years.

But no resolution could unsettle the doubt that had descended on his mind. He'd always been so sure of his work. He'd never thought he was as totally useless as a supervisor as he now felt. Sure, he'd been different from the classic supervisor who watched his CSIs' every move, but his team had always succeeded, coming out stronger. The team trusted him unerringly. Is that a good thing, his mind asked him? You thought you knew what you were doing, but now they're hurt – and you're solely responsible. Grissom looked down at Sara, at the way her head rested lamely against his shoulder, chocolate hair falling down her back. You thought you were right, but you weren't, he said to himself. And the evidence is speaking loud and clear. And right there for the first time, Gil Grissom found himself, for the first time, in reasonable doubt.

**A/N Those of you who read Collapse will know that I love using photographs in my stories. There was a very similar scene with pictures in Collapse and there probably will be in my next fic. I think that when you pick a photograph in a person's house, you unwittingly uncover a part of them because they've gone to the trouble to remember the specific happenings/people in the pictures. It so often shows what's really important to them.**

**"Jaded" was done by the absolutely brilliant Aerosmith so all credit for the song goes to them. I could never write music that good!**

**I've researched quite a lot about Brown Recluse spiders, so the info and descriptions should be accurate :)**

**Please drop a review – it'll guarantee a quick update!**


	4. C: 4

**A/N My sincerest apologies for the lateness of this update. Varsity ran away with me completely, and, while I managed to write most of this in my Chemistry lectures, I haven't been able to find time to type it out and post it until now.**

**To JaysEmm, ayesha-s, Famous4it, bbandgsr, Haldir's Heart and Soul (awesome name!) and Dr. Temperance Brennan: thank you so so so so so much for the reviews! They mean the world to me. You guys are the reason this chapter is up!**

**I hope you enjoy it. This chapter is something of a refractory period actually, but things will hot up again soon. Thank you for actually bothering to read this story!**

**C: 4**

Rain poured down on the umbrellas of the two figures standing in front of Las Vegas Desert Palms Hospital. It had developed into a stormy day, and the rain beat down with such force, that it was as if the sky itself was crying. Clad both in black, the two figures were engaged in a conversation befitting their grim attire.

"Three CSIs in hospital, Gil? What the hell happened?" Carvallo demanded. "I thought you had things under control."

"I can understand your position Robert, trust me. That's my team in there." Grissom's voice was forcibly calm but pain and guilt burned in his eyes.

Carvallo took a deep breath, calming his anger and looked Grissom in the eye. "What happened Gil?" he asked, his voice softer.

Grissom took a deep breath and began to explain, "Catherine and Nick were working a case with me. We found a man hanged in the Forberg Nature Reserve. It all seemed pretty obvious until Doctor Robbins found COD to be exsanguination. If the victim bled out elsewhere, not at the Reserve, we would need to find another crime scene. I sent Nick and Catherine to the Reserve to collect a soil sample so we could test it for blood."

"Without a police escort?"

"No. PD was tapped out and the evidence was particularly time-sensitive so we needed to get it as soon as possible. Especially with this rain on the way."

Carvallo sighed, "I hear your argument, Gil, but they should have waited for a uniform."

"And risked having our evidence not stand up in court? Risked letting a hangman walk?" Grissom retorted.

His argument seemed to penetrate and the director was silent for a few moments. "Okay. I get what you're saying – but I still consider it bad judgement. For now though, how are Nick and Catherine doing?"

Grissom cast a look up at the tall hospital building then answered, "Catherine has a bruised rib from the bullet's impact and a sprained wrist, along with some bruises and scratches, but the doctors are saying that she can go home tonight as long as she gets rest."

"And Nick?"

Grissom gave a heavy sigh. "He fractured his tibia and dislocated his shoulder during the fall. Luckily, the bullet just left a bruise – no damaged ribs there. The doctors want to keep him overnight at the absolute least, to make sure he doesn't have a concussion."

Carvallo nodded grimly, keeping his eyes on the ground for a few moments as he took in and processed what he had just been told. Then he cast his eyes back up to Grissom, who for the first time in ages was looking positively haggard and asked, "And Sidle? What happened to her? I've heard many good things about her, and also a few bad. I noticed that she was suspended not too long ago and that Ecklie recommended you fire her."

Renewed guilt appeared in Grissom's eyes as he opened his mouth to speak. "Sara went through a number of taxing experiences around the time of her suspension. I worked through them with her and the matter was fully resolved. I didn't see the need to loose an incisive CSI because of a minor lab disagreement."

"I hear she's not in good condition now – and that it might just be you who saved her life. What happened there?" Carvallo gave Grissom a serious look.

Grissom's heart began to race as he recalled walking into Sara's bedroom and finding her sprawled on the floor, remembered the way she whined, delirious, in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. In his mind, he saw the two white blisters, not unlike a vampire bite that slowly sucked her life away. He took a deep breath and managed to keep his voice steady as he explained:

"I have reason to believe that Sara was bitten twice by a Brown Recluse spider, a particularly poisonous species." He fixed his eyes down on the ground before continuing. "A colleague of mine sent me one today to keep as part of my collection. It seems that it escaped and somehow bit her."

"Wouldn't she have felt it?"

"No, that's part of the danger of a Brown Recluse. Most people only begin to feel the bite after the venom has had time to do serious damage to the body."

Carvallo kept his expression neutral and nodded, "Wouldn't she have discovered the bites on her own when she started to feel the effects? How did you find her in time?"

"Some of the initial symptoms of the bite are fever, nausea, dizziness and shock. I found Sara when Greg and I went to her apartment on the way over here. We couldn't contact her so we decided to check if she was okay. She was unconscious and feverish, and neither Greg nor I could wake her. My guess is that the bites caused her to pass out and she hit her head on the way down. We have no idea how long she was out for before we found her." Grissom explained.

"And now? What are the doctor's saying?"

"She's still in the ER. I'm going up there as soon as we're done here," Grissom said, casting another glance at the entrance. Inside, he was wracking his brains to try to remember what the last thing he'd said to Sara had been. The paramedics who'd picked her up had been almost sure that she had fallen into some type of coma and Grissom remembered them being agonisingly vague as to the likelihood of a full recovery. If he was going to lose Sara, he wanted to be sure that the last thing he'd said to her – at least – hadn't been as carelessly hurtful or insensitive as many of his previous goodbyes. But he couldn't remember what he'd said, or what she might have said back. All he could hear was his own voice, repeating Sara's name over and over in his head, and her pained, restless whines as she'd lain in his arms only an hour before. Why it was her dominating his thoughts, he did not know. Nick and Catherine were also injured – and that had also been his fault. Perhaps it was because he'd been looking forward to breakfast with Sara. Perhaps it was because he'd been particularly careless. But still, his mind reasoned, she's saturating my reality. Why is she the only thing I can focus on?

He thought about the words of the song that had been playing in her apartment when they'd found her. _You're so jaded, and I'm the one that jaded you…and baby I'm afraid of you._

Sara had been tiring lately, that much was clear – her weariness had been showing more than ever. He remembered how lively and enthusiastic she had been when she'd first arrived in Vegas and wondered, Am I the cause of the deep sadness that I see in your eyes everyday? I always kept my distance, worried about where things would go if I let myself relax with you. In some sense, I am – was- afraid of you. Afraid that I'd fall in love with you all over again. I hurt you by staying away; hurt you by brushing you off to protect myself. And suddenly it hit Grissom like a tidal wave, clear as the morning sun on a winter morning. I thought you changed because of the grimness of our work. I thought it was your past resurfacing, but now I see it. Sara, was I the one that jaded you?

X

The ward had space for four beds. The one to the left of the door was vacant and the one that would have stood beside it, next to the window, was gone. The two beds on the right hand side of the room, however, were both occupied.

In the bed nearest the door Catherine Willows sighed irritably at the older woman standing at her bedside.

"I'm fine mom. It's just a bruise!" she looked over at the blonde teenager sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the bed and frowned. "Shouldn't you be at school Lindsay?"

"Nah," the pretty girl shook her head. "I wanna be here for you. It's not exactly every day that my mother gets shot so I'm sure they'll understand."

"Hmm," Catherine raised an eyebrow and tried to hide her smile. She held out her arms to her daughter for a hug and found herself wincing at the pressure it put on her ribs when Lindsay gladly bounced across the bed into her arms. But Catherine didn't really care. She was just happy to have Lindsay there and to know that they would be guaranteed a few work-free days to relax together.

On the next bed over, the one nearest the window on the right, Greg Sanders was staring up at the think white cast covering Nick Stokes's leg where it was held, suspended over his bed.

"Geez Nicky, you had us worried there for a while," Warrick said to Nick as he pulled up a chair and sat between the two beds.

Nick gave a wry smile, "Yeah, just can't seem to keep myself above ground."

For a moment, everyone in the room froze but Nick smiled and winked and they all relaxed. It had been a joke, devoid of any bitterness and fear and Greg let out a relieved chuckle. It was good to see Nick able to be light-hearted about what had happened to him. Although none of them would ever be able to warm the chill that Nick's abduction had put into their hearts, it was wonderful to see Nick moving on from it.

"So when can I get outta here?" Nick asked. He moved to sit up but the sling that his arm was in made pushing himself up difficult.

"Whoa! Easy there cowboy," Warrick sprang from his seat and pushed Nick back down. "You're not going anywhere yet."

"But you just said Catherine's going home today," Nick argued, looking over at the strawberry blond.

"Yeah, she is. But the doctors are keeping you here overnight for observation."

"And it's not like you're gonna get very far with one arm and one leg," Greg intoned.

Nick scowled and mumbled something inaudible.

"It's just one night Nick," Catherine said. "Use it to get some rest."

"Easy for you to say that," Nick gave her a deadpan look that dripped envy.

"And, no offence or anything," Lindsay said, looking between Catherine and Nick, "but neither of you is looking very good anyway." She pointed at the long scratches on Catherine's cheek then turned to Nick and said, "My mother's going straight into bed when she gets home anyway. So buck up. You're not missing anything and at least you're both alive."

Her words penetrated Nick's frustration and his face softened. "I guess you're right. Thanks Linds," he said with a small smile.

Lindsay nodded with satisfaction. "So…when do you guys get lunch? I'm starved."

X

Grissom was about to enter the CSIs' ward when a tap on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to find a man in his mid-thirties with sandy blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He was a few centimetres taller that Grissom and his white lab coat covered what was obviously a well-toned body. Grissom guessed him to be the staff doctor and wasn't disappointed.

"Dr. Grissom?" he asked, holding out his hand. Grissom shook it and nodded.

"I'm Dr. Philip Morgan. I've been treating Sara Sidle. I noticed that you're her emergency contact here in Nevada."

"Yes. I'm her supervisor and…a friend. How is she?" Grissom turned his full attention to the man.

"She's doing a lot better so we'll be bringing her through to the ward in a few minutes."

Grissom gave an audible sigh of relief and uttered a soft "Thank God".

"But," Dr Morgan continued, "We're going to have to keep a very close watch on her. I was concerned that she might have slipped into a coma, as is possible with these kinds of bites because of the induced immune response, but she woke up while we were examining her. She was feverish, and very confused, didn't really seem to understand what was happening. We gave her a mild sedative and something to bring the fever down so it looks as if she'll be just fine."

"And the bites will heal?" Grissom frowned.

"Well, it would help if you could possibly bring in the spider that bit her, but I understand why that might be difficult. We've put Miss Sidle on a course of cortisone-based hormones to combat haemolysis and we're hoping that the cold pack applied by the paramedics will slow down necrosis by the venom's enzymes." Morgan explained.

"So she'll make a full recovery?" Grissom asked.

"Theoretically, yes. It's going to take some time for her immune system to re-stabilize itself and for her body to overcome the venom's effects. With the proper medical care, survival past 48 hours usually precedes a full recovery."

"So she's not out of the woods yet?" Grissom's frown deepened and a fresh twist of guilt writhed in his gut.

"No, but she's a strong woman. Hell, it took three orderlies to sedate her when she woke up, so I think she's going to be fine. She should be feeling better by this evening," Morgan finished with a slight smile.

"So when can I take her home? She really hates hospitals." In Grissom's mind, there was absolutely no question of him being the one to take her home. After all, this was his fault and he saw this as an opportunity to make it up to her – all of it.

"She's going to be here for the next 48 hours at least. Those bites were dangerously close to the jugular so we want her here. Beyond that, however, as soon as everything checks out, she's free to go." Then he quickly added, "But she's going to be weak so she shouldn't be working for at least a week."

Grissom smiled, "Don't worry about that Doctor. I'll see that she gets rest."

"Very good. I'll see you when we bring her through in a few minutes then. I arranged a private ward for the Crime Lab. I hope it's working out for you," Morgan added.

"Yes, it was very kind of you. Thanks," Grissom said.

"Great!" Morgan shook his hand and left in the direction of the ER.

Grissom watched him go and gave a heavy sigh. It was a small consolation that Sara would be all right and he felt some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. He chuckled. Of course she would be all right. She was Sara, after all – she never stopped fighting. For the second time that day, he thought, That's my girl, and smiled.

Grissom entered the ward to find Catherine sitting up in bed and sharing a bowl of red Jell-O with Lindsay, who lay beside her against the pillows. He was filled with warmth at the sight and smiled, delighted to see his friend so happy with her daughter. Lindsay had given Catherine many sleepless nights so it was nice to see them getting on so well. Warrick was hovering next to the bed, holding out at box of juice, which Catherine accepted with a 'thanks' and a wink. Grissom smirked to himself. She was still convinced that he hadn't yet noticed how she and Warrick looked at each other.

"Hey Gris," Nick's Texan voice called from the next bed. A strong pang of guilt hit Grissom when his eyes fell upon Nick's bandaged leg and injured shoulder. Greg was seated beside him, looking tired but content.

"How're you guys feeling?" Grissom asked.

"Much better," Nick said warmly.

Catherine shrugged, "Can't complain more than I already have."

"I...uh…owe you both an apology." Grissom started. "It's my fault that you're here. I'm the one-"

"Gil," Catherine spotted where he was headed and immediately interrupted him. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known that that was going to happen."

"Yeah," Nick nodded in agreement.

Grissom shook his head, "I shouldn't have let you go without a uniform."

"We go back to crime scenes all the time without guards," Nick said. He paused, his eyes momentarily contemplative, then added in a soft voice, "And even when we do take them with, shit still happens sometimes."

Catherine nodded, "And with the way that guy was shooting, I doubt an extra body would have been anything more than an extra target. So don't beat yourself up about it, okay?" She winced and reached over to squeeze his hand.

The room was silent for a few moments. Catherine was the only member of the team who had ever seen Grissom this low and the others were having a difficult time figuring out how to react. Grissom moved first, gently squeezing back and shaking his head. He squeezed his eyes closed for a few seconds and blinked when he opened them again.

"At least tell me we're gonna nail the guy," Nick said quickly, pulling everyone's focus to a new topic.

Grissom seemed visibly relieved that their attention had moved from him and quickly snapped back into work mode. "Days collected all the evidence and Brass is in with the guy now."

"Did they get it before this rain started?" Warrick asked, casting a concerned look out the window at the bitter weather outside.

"I think so. Ecklie made it top priority."

"As the evidence should always be," Greg said, nodding.

Grissom winced and drew a sharp breath. "Most of the time Greg, yes. But not _all_ the time. I've realised that people are just as important and, from now on, you guys come first, understand?"

They all nodded slowly, wondering what had gotten into their work-obsessed boss.

"So…you're always gonna be taking our side from now on?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. Grissom immediately caught a dubious mischief in the Texan's eyes and cast him a suspicious look.

"Mostly, why?" He asked apprehensively.

"'Cause that would mean that you'll help me convince the doctors to let me go home tonight," Nick said.

Around the room, chuckles and snorts burst forth and Grissom raised an eyebrow at Nick.

"I think it's in your best interest to stay here for the night Nicky. I'm putting your health first," Grissom said with a wink and a sneaky smile at Catherine. The smile faded quickly however, when he added, "Besides, you're not going to be alone in here."

Greg immediately sat up and asked, "Is Sara out of the ER yet?"

"What? The ER?!" Nick fairly yelped.

"What happened to her?" Catherine asked, eyes wide with shock.

Grissom put up his hands to calm them down before explaining. "You guys were still out of it when we brought her in. When we found out what had happened to you, we headed straight out to the Reserve but I couldn't get hold of Sara. So, after we found Nick and were ready to head over here, Greg and I stopped at her apartment to make sure she was okay."

"She ran out of our autopsy at the end of shift," Greg elaborated, "Said she wasn't feeling well."

"And?" Lindsay asked, leaning forward and frowning. "Was she there?"

Grissom nodded. "She was unconscious and she'd hit her head."

"What had happened to her? How did she hit her head?" Nick asked.

Grissom swallowed uncomfortably before continuing. "She was bitten by my Brown Recluse spider. Twice. It must have happened sometime during shift because the symptoms take at least two hours to manifest themselves."

"Brown Recluse?" Nick asked. "I remember those. We used to get them in our house in Texas during the winter. Damn dangerous things. Six-year-old kid down the street died from a bite a couple years back. You know those things are more poisonous than rattlesnakes?"

Silent horror descended on the room and Catherine turned to Grissom, her face white, "So _is_ Sara okay?"

His voice grim, Grissom replied, "The doctors say she's going to be okay. Brown Recluse venom is a collection of enzymes that causes the destruction of cell membranes and leads to the breakdown of skin, fat and blood vessels around the bite. It also forces the immune system to release histamines, cytokines and interleukins which can lead to haemolysis, renal failure – even coma."

"Gris," Greg's voice was low. "We couldn't wake Sara. She isn't…?"

"No Greg. Sara's not in a coma. But she's not in good condition either." Grissom answered.

Greg sighed with relief. "Will she be okay?"

"They say so," Grissom nodded.

"Wow." Warrick took a deep breath. "Some day, huh?"

The doors to the ward opened and Dr. Morgan came in, followed by two orderlies pushing a bed. A grim hush descended on the room and all eyes went to the lean form on the bed.

Sara's face was flushed and she was taking short breaths. The hair around her face was wet with sweat and she lay with her torso raised and her head slightly to the side. What appeared to be a fresh cold pack was fixed in place over the bites. She looked fragile and weak - a sight that none of the team had yet beheld. For Grissom, it was torture, knowing that he was responsible. Jesus Sara, I've jaded you and now I've broken you. And as usual, it was all a result of my carelessness, my apathy – all unintended, and all unforgivable.

**A/N So please please please please pretty please send me a review. I could really use some encouragement right now. I've got two days before I have to be back at varsity but I might be able to squeeze in another chapter before I go :)**


	5. C: 5

**A/N Thank you so so so much for the wonderful reviews – this chapter is dedicated to those seven saintly souls who took the time to review: meester, fancyjancyGSR, CR1-GSR, Haldir's Heart and Soul, jenniuol, Janne.G**** and Anonymous :) YOU GUYS ROCK! **

**This was quite a heavy chapter to write – and I'm not really sure if it's my best work. But I've been at the computer the whole afternoon and my family are none too pleased – so I really hope you like it!**

**C: 5**

By 4pm, the rain had stopped, but as the dark clouds were blown east, even more were blown in from the west, making more rain a certainty. By that time, Warrick and Greg had reluctantly gone home to get some rest before shift and Catherine was ready to head home for some proper rest. The doctors had provided a wheelchair to transport her to the car, and, after a heated debate with her mother and Lindsay, Catherine was seated in it and waiting to leave. She turned to Nick to say goodbye but found him fast asleep, snoring lightly as his pain medication took effect. She chuckled lightly to herself at the sight, then turned her attention diagonally across the room. Beside the bed that had been returned to its position next the window a few hours before, was Gil Grissom, slumped uncomfortably in a chair and looking absolutely exhausted. A copy of the latest Forensics Journal was propped on his knees and he was doing his best to look like he was reading it.

But Catherine wasn't fooled. She'd been watching him and had quickly noticed how often his eyes darted to the sleeping woman on the bed beside him. His haggard appearance had led her to believe that, of all the guilt he was feeling, his guilt about what had happened to Sara was the worst. Catherine frowned, wondering why it was bothering him more than anything else. After all, it wasn't as if Grissom was solely responsible – not unless he'd trained and commanded the spider to go after Sara. Given their previous relationship, the first thought that would've popped into her mind, as an explanation, would have been that the two were rebuilding their friends-with-benefits-ship, but as far as Catherine knew, the two hadn't worked a case together in weeks. Sara had been mentoring Greg and Grissom, well, was Grissom so even if Sara had tried anything, it would no doubt have been thwarted. No, the chances of Grissom and Sara having started some sort of extra-work relationship were about as great as finding a gold filling in the mouth of a toothless man. Yet still, there was something in his eyes that kept the notion in her mind.

"Gil?" Catherine called softly across the room. At her voice, Grissom seemed to jolt back into reality and the magazine dropped to the floor with a low splat. He quickly bent to pick it up before turning to face her.

"I'm heading home," she said with a smile and a small wave.

"Already? What time is it?" he asked, looking at his watch.

Catherine hesitated, and then said, "Isn't it time that you went home too; got some rest?"

Grissom sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I want to be here when Sara wakes up. I'd rather she hear what happened from me."

Catherine cast a glance at the feverish brunette on the bed and sighed, "Gil, I understand what you're saying. But you've gotta be back at the lab for shift in a few hours and you've only got Greg and Warrick on tonight so it's going to be hectic. And Sara…Well, what if she doesn't wake up tonight."

He shook his head, "Thanks. I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine."

"You don't look it," she retorted.

Grissom only sighed in response and shook his head. After a few moments silence, he turned to her and said, "So you're going home? I hope you get decent rest."

She smiled, at both his concern and his obvious change of subject, "I will." She pushed herself towards him until she was in front of his chair, wincing at the pain the effort caused in her ribs. She squeezed his hand and looked him in the eye. "Don't blame yourself for anything that happened last night. Nick and I don't – and I know Sara never would." She smiled at him, and the corners of his mouth moved upwards in a small half-smile, his eyes deep with remorse.

"Thank you Catherine," he said softly, casting another glance at Sara, "I really appreciate this."

She smiled widely, "It's my pleasure. I mean every word so don't let that guilt eat you up." And suddenly she decided to go out on a limb and said, "And don't worry, your girl will be fine." She tilted her head towards Sara and winked.

X

Half an hour later, Grissom decided to drop all pretence. With the rest of the team gone, and Nick still sleeping, he was alone in the ward with Sara. Desert Palms was quiet and the only sounds he could hear were Nick's snores and the slow beeping of Sara's heart monitor. He put the Forensics Journal down and stood over Sara to take in her appearance once more, this time, without the others scrutinising him and trying to guess what he was thinking.

Her cheeks were flushed a deep red which seemed out of place on Sara's usually pale skin. Her breathing had slowed in the time that she'd been in the ward so she lay still, with a placid expression on her face. The cut on her forehead hadn't needed stitches, but the doctors had still taped a small square of gauze over it to prevent infection. Her hair had been left loose and it now hung just below her shoulders and framed her face so that, with her lips slightly parted in sleep, and her dark eyelashes splayed over the red in her cheeks, she looked like a porcelain doll – and a fragile one at that. Grissom was reminded of Lindsay's dolls, many of which he'd had to play 'doctor' for, fixing plasters and bandages to them when a young Lindsay had accidentally dropped them. Yes that was it: Sara was a broken doll – one that he planned to fix.

Grissom reached out an unsteady hand, sliding it along the hospital blankets until it was a few inches away from hers. With a quick glance at her face, just to be sure she wasn't awake, he reached out and closed his fingers around hers. Her hand was warm in his and trembling slightly. Gaining confidence, he lifted it and ran his thumb up and down each of her fingers, then slid his own fingers in between hers and squeezed. Their fingers interlaced perfectly, or they would, he thought, if you could hold my hand properly. Keeping her hand in his, he turned his attention back to her face and raised his other hand to her forehead to check her temperature. Still warm. He sighed and gently ran his hand to her cheek. His hands were cold – perhaps she could feel it; perhaps it would help.

A soft moan broke the silence of the room and Grissom's eyes immediately fixed on the brunette's face.

"Sara?" he whispered tentatively.

No answer came, but he felt movement in his hand. Glancing down, he saw Sara's fingers slowly close around his own. Grissom gasped and looked back to her face. She was blinking slowly at him, a frown already forming on her brow. He caught the confusion in her eyes and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay Sara," he said in a soothing voice, "Don't panic. You're safe."

"Gris?" The word was a hoarse whisper and Grissom quickly reached over and retrieved a small cup of water from the bedside table. Carefully, he brought it to her lips, letting the cool liquid flow into her mouth. She swallowed slowly and gave a small smile.

"Thanks."

"Sure," he smiled and restored the cup to its place. When he returned his attention to her, he found her eyes slowly moving around the room. Her frown deepened, and the corners of her lips sunk downwards as she seemed to realise where she was. Suddenly, her eyes darted back to him, catching him watching her. She shifted uncomfortably then suddenly winced at the sharp pain that shot through her shoulder and stopped, taking deep breaths.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, immediately regretting it. Come on Gil! It's obvious that she's in pain!

"Foggy," she said slowly, blinking a few times. "And sore." She winced and shifted a little more, then added, "And…eugh…like I'm gonna hurl."

"Do you me to help you to the bathroom?" Grissom asked, unsure of how to respond.

She shook her head slowly. "No thanks, I think I can keep it under control." She paused for a few moments then turned to him, looking like a lost child and asked, "What happened to me Gris?"

He took a deep breath and sighed, trying to find the best way to explain.

"You…uh… were bitten by a Brown Recluse spider."

"A what?" she frowned.

He swallowed and said, "_My_ Brown Recluse spider. The one I left next to you in the break room last night. I…I'm sorry Sara. I had no idea this would happen to you – I certainly never meant for you to be hurt."

Sara was quiet for a few moments, then smiled wryly. "So it wasn't the pizza," she muttered, shaking her head slightly.

Grissom frowned, "What?"

"I was sick at the lab. I though it was because of the old pizza I ate for lunch," she explained.

"Oh. So do you…remember anything after you left the lab?"

She frowned, thinking. "I remember getting home. I took off my shoes, tossed my jersey on the bed…started making breakfast. Our breakfast." She paused for a few moments, then continued, "I remember feeling nauseous – and hot. And then dizzy. Really really dizzy. And then…nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Zero," she shook her head and cast her eyes down. "What happened to me…how did I get here?"

"You must have fainted. You were unconscious when we found you."

"We?"

"Greg and I." Grissom sighed. "A lot happened last night after you left. Nick and Catherine were attacked in the Reserve-"

"Oh God, are they okay?" she interrupted him.

"They'll be fine. Catherine's at home and Nick…" Grissom stepped back so she could see past him to where the Texan lay sleeping.

"Oh Nicky!" Sara gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. Her eyes were filled with horror when she turned them back to Grissom and asked, "What happened to him?"

"We believe that the perp returned to the scene. He started shooting at them. They ran, until he hit Catherine – in the vest, thank God. Nick went back to her – and the guy shot him too."

"What happened to his leg?" Sara's eyes roamed the large cast.

"When the guy shot him, he fell into a ten foot deep pit."

Sara scowled, "Bastard."

"He's in custody down at PD. Don't worry, he won't get away with this," Grissom said, hoping to douse some of the resentful fire that had ignited in Sara's eyes. It didn't seem to work so he changed the subject, "I tried to call you. I…wanted you there, but you weren't answering. So Greg and I went to your apartment and, well, you know the rest."

Silence descended on the room for a few minutes as Sara slowly mulled over what had happened. Her mind was still terribly sluggish and she was struggling to think logically. One minute, she'd been happily preparing breakfast for Grissom, excited and eagerly anticipating his arrival, and the next she was here, feeling like she'd been starved of oxygen and then thrown under a bus. A thousand feelings seemed to be running through her at once: anger, confusion, regret, longing and pain. It had been both strange and wonderful to wake up with Grissom by her side. Grissom, who, despite her best attempts to the contrary, could still make her heart flutter with a single smile, a single touch. The first thing she'd become aware of was his hand around hers and the perfect way their fingers meshed together. It had left her feeling…complete and, hang on, _he was still holding her hand!_

Sara looked down at their hands, resting on the blanket, and squeezed. Grissom's eyes immediately met hers, and in that moment, sparks flew between them, causing a warm tingle to run through both their bodies. For a moment, eyes and hands locked, they felt the passion that would flow between them if given the chance. They gasped as one, surprised and enchanted by the strange feeling. But Grissom quickly drew his hand away and it faded.

"Sorry," he mumbled, obviously uncomfortable. He cast his eyes past her, out the window, and then looked down at his shoes. Sara kept her eyes on his face, slowly dying inside as tears formed in her eyes. If he had looked at her, he would have seen profound sadness and despondency. Grissom had, in trying to conceal his own confusing emotions, openly rejected the chemistry between them and, to Sara, it was like an icy knife to the heart.

She drew her hand back under the blankets and, wincing, turned on her side, away from Grissom. Behind her, Grissom cast his eyes down to the floor, mentally beating himself. You've done it again Gil! You weren't willing to let go and just be there, in the moment with her. It might not have led anywhere; it might have been the moment you've been looking for to mend your fractured relationship, to tell Sara it isn't her fault – but no, you panicked and you withdrew. You hurt her again. Grissom racked his brain for something so say, something to make it right, but Sara didn't give him the chance.

"When can I go home?" she asked, her voice calm, as if nothing had happened. "Our shift's going to be crazy without Nick and Cath."

He moved around the bed and sat down in a chair on the other side so that his eyes were level with hers. "Sara. This is serious. Those spider bites on your shoulder are dangerous – you could have died-"

"But I didn't. You saved me," she retorted.

He sighed in frustration, and forced himself to be calm, "Sara, the venom takes a long time to wear off. You're not out of the woods yet. The doctors are going to keep you here for a minimum of two days."

Sara was visibly disgusted with the notion of having to stay in the hospital so he quickly added, "But I've spoken to your doctor. As soon as you're okay to leave, I'll take you home. So the more rest you get now, the sooner you'll be home again."

Sara sighed in defeat and nodded, "Thanks."

"I wish I could undo what happened to you Sara, really I do. I'm so sorry," he said softly.

Gently, she reached out a hand and ran it up his arm. It sent shooting pain through her shoulder, but he was worth it.

"Gris…Gil, it's not your fault. You can't control everything, you know. And I am going to be fine," she soothed, even though she felt like she was inches away from death. Ironic, she thought, how I'm the one lying in a hospital bed, fighting like hell to stay awake, and consoling you - and still you won't just let go for me!

She swallowed and continued, "After all, you're the one who saved me. If you hadn't come looking for me, nobody would have."

He cast her the same disbelieving half-smile he'd given Catherine. "You should be resting."

"So should you. You have shift tonight," she added, a note of contempt in her voice.

Grissom stood up and squeezed her hand. "Thank you Sara. I really hope you feel better soon."

She smiled, "Rain check for breakfast then?" She doubted he'd say yes and was genuinely surprised by his answer.

"Sure," he said. He moved around the bed and picked up his coat and the forgotten copy of Forensics Journal. He put it down beside her. "Here's something to keep you busy if you can't sleep. I know you struggle sometimes."

Sara smiled, her eyes half-open. "Thanks. Am I going to see you here again?"

"Of course. Probably after tonight's shift. I know the guys will want to see you."

"Cool." She closed her eyes.

"Goodbye Sara," he said softly, moving towards the door.

"Bye Gris. Thanks for…stopping by," she replied in a shaky voice. _Stopping by and breaking my heart._

He turned in the doorway to look back at her. "Tell Nicky I say hi. And…feel better." And then he was gone and Sara was left alone in the ward.

She turned and looked out the window at the hostile clouds looming in the sky. They covered what could have been a breathtaking Nevada sunset, leaving no trace of the warmth that might have been in the air. Just like Grissom and I, Sara thought. We could be great together – happy and whole – but there's always something in the way. She remembered the spark that had flown between them and then, with a sinking heart, remembered the way he'd jerked his hand from hers. Bitter, cold fire smouldered at the back of her throat and down into her heart. Warm tears returned and flowed unchecked down her cheeks. A broken sob echoed in the hospital room and Sara's body shook with grief. She curled in to a ball, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, her strength collapsing under her own despair and sobbed. Outside, there was a flash of lightning and a deep rumble of thunder. Rain poured down on Las Vegas, thick and unrelenting, covering the city in grey darkness. People on the street yelped and ran for cover; windows and doors were hastily yanked shut; children screamed in fear of the thunder; telephone lines struck by the lighting immediately went dead – and Sara Sidle's heart monitor went berserk.

**A/N Review? In the name of all that is GSR, please review! You know I'll write the next chapter fast if you do…**


	6. C: 6

**A/N Okay, so I worked like hell to get this up soon, after all your wonderful reviews. Sometimes I wish I could just quit varsity and spend my life writing :) **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap. It certainly went differently from what I had planned, but I guess that sometimes you've got to let the words lead you, right?**

**To my wonderful, MnM-deserving reviewers: Famous4it, fancyjancyGSR, Dr. Temperance Brennan, inlovewithgsr, tine, NickyStokes, meester, Gsfanatic, starlett2007, Haldir's Heart and Soul – once again, you guys rock my world and make it all worthwhile!**

**C: 6**

_Nick Stokes pulled his jacket closed around him and clicked on his flashlight. He studied the tall trees for a few seconds before walking deeper into them. It was dark out, and a strong wind was screaming through the trees, making them sway hauntingly from side to side. Overhead, large clouds were massing over the Forberg Reserve, blocking out the dim light of the moon. It was an atmosphere best suited to B-rated horror movies and the nightmares of small children and Nick did his best to ignore it as he reached the group of trees he was looking for._

_Nick stopped dead, staring up at one tree in shock. High above him, was a man hanging by his neck from one of the branches, swinging in the wind, the rope creaking. At the base of the tree, two CSI kits were standing open and a small jar of sand was resting on top of one. Nick frowned and ducked under the crime scene tape surrounding the trees, taking steps towards the kits. A rustle of leaves from nearby stopped Nick dead. He squinted in front of him, trying to identify the source of the sound and spotted a large pile of leaves – and a hand!_

_Nick ran forwards, falling to his knees beside the prone form of Catherine Willows. She was unresponsive and Nick hurried to brush the leaves off her in order to check her pulse. But as soon as they were off her, Nick's eyes fell on something worse and he gasped in horror. At the centre of Catherine's chest was a huge patch of blood – and a bullet hole. She was still bleeding and blood ran down the sides of her shirt and seeped in to the ground below. _

"_Cath! Catherine!" Nick shouted. He instinctively reached for his cell phone but found it gone from its place on his belt. He pushed more leaves off Catherine's body, seeking her phone when suddenly, he heard the click of a gun stock and felt cold, hard metal at the back of his head. _

"_Stop righ' there," a voice behind him growled. Nick had no choice, putting up his hands. He forced himself to appear calm, but inside, he was in turmoil. Catherine was dying, bleeding to death in front of him and there was nothing he could do to save her, not with a gun on his head. Cold fear gripped his heart and his breathing quickened as adrenaline flooded his system. _

"_Let's just be calm," he started. But the man behind him would have none of it. He grabbed Nick by the shoulder and flung him backwards. Nick waited for the hard ground to come, and instead, felt the rush of free-fall. He opened his eyes to see not a man, but Kelly Gordon waving at him with a manic grin as he fell further and further into the dark pit. He opened his mouth to scream but instead, heard only a frenzied beeping._

"_What the-?!" for a moment his fear was defeated by curiosity. I'm beeping?!_

_But then he heard voices, and the clatter of a medical cart and realised what was happening._

Nick jerked awake and squinted against the daylight that attacked his eyes. The beeping was real now, and finally he was able to match faces to the voices he'd been hearing.

Dr. Morgan rushed past his bed, demanding, "What the hell just happened?!"

Behind him was a grey-haired nurse of about 50, looking utterly shell-shocked, "I- She-… I don't know."

Nick forced himself to sit upright and found the doctor and two other nurses gathered around Sara's bed. The loud beeping was coming from her heart monitor and Sara lay still on the bed.

"Sar?" Nick's voice was a whisper.

And suddenly the frenzied beeping changed into a long, high-pitched whine. Nick spotted the flat line on the screen above his friend and felt a cold horror descend on his body. He found himself frozen, staring at the flat line, his ears shrieking with the whining of the monitor, unable to move, despite the frenzy of thoughts rushing through his mind. Sara. Flat-lining. Sara. No heart beat. Sara. Dead?

"We'll have to defib her!" Dr. Morgan called and moments later the previously petrified nurse had sprung into action and readied two conducting paddles.

Nick watched, his mouth open but unable to form words, as the paddles were charged and electric current was jolted through Sara's body. He cringed at the way her whole body jerked under the force of the current and Nick felt his own heart begin to beat harder and faster in his chest.

"Wake up. Wake up," he found himself repeating under his breath, not taking his eyes off his friend.

A second jolt, more powerful. Nothing. And then a third – and the slow beating of before returned to the room. As one, the people in the ward sighed with relief.

Nick shoved his blankets back and slid to his good foot, gripping his bed for support with his good arm as he stood. Slowly, painstakingly, he hopped towards Sara's bed. The older nurse was the first to spot him and hurried over.

"Mr. Stokes! You shouldn't be on your feet. Please let me help you back to bed."

Nick ignored her request and said, "No. Please, I need to see that she's okay."

The woman seemed to catch his urgency and nodded, pulling his arm over her shoulder to help him to Sara's bedside. By the time he slid into the chair that Grissom had occupied only minutes before, the two other nurses had departed, taking the defibrillator with them. Dr. Morgan stepped to the side to allow him a full view of his friend.

"She's going to be okay, Nick," Morgan said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The heart beat we've got now is strong."

Nick nodded at the man, not really wanting to talk to him but grateful for his concern. "What happened to her?"

Morgan sighed, "I'm not entirely sure – I'll have to do a few tests to investigate. My best guess is that the venom reached her heart and upped her heart rate to the point of burnout. I know Brown Recluse venom has been associated with acute myalgia so perhaps it caused her cardiac muscle to spasm." The doctor stopped to look at the monitor and then down at Sara, who appeared to be resting peacefully. "Still, I have my doubts whether the venom was the sole contributor. Stress is almost always a factor. Patients are upset by something, they panic, their heart rate starts to rise – and then it just doesn't stop increasing until the heart goes into freezes up. "

Nick followed the man's eyes and spotted long tear tracks down Sara's cheeks. She'd been crying? It was then that Nick realised that Grissom had finally left. Is it possible, he wondered, that Sara woke up already? That something upset her enough to spark this off?

"I'd best be off," Dr. Morgan said, turning towards the door. "But if you'd like, you can move to the bed beside hers, if you'd like to keep an eye on her. I don't really know Miss Sidle, but I can see you two are close."

"Thanks, we are," Nick said, nodding. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."

"Ok," Morgan nodded. "I'll ask Nurse Gardiner to come in and check on her – and to help you back to bed."

Nick nodded his thanks and turned his attention back to his friend. He gripped Sara's hand and squeezed, aware of the warmth of her fingers against his palm. Of all the members of Grissom's team, he'd been the first to warm to her when she'd first arrived in Vegas, and over the years, he'd come to think of her as the baby sister he'd never had. He and Warrick had secretly become more and more protective of Sara as they learnt more about her. She came off as tough, but, Nick suspected, she was still vulnerable; he understood their shared ability to empathise with victims and knew how strongly Sara felt pain – and how well she hid it.

"What did you get yourself into this time, little sis?" Nick muttered under his breath. He reached up and ran a finger along one of the tear marks on her cheek. Suddenly, a small half smile spread across her face and her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey you," Nick said softly, sending her his thousand-watt smile. "How you doing?"

Sara swallowed and blinked a few times until his face came into focus. She was obviously happy to see him and her smile broadened, "Honestly? Like hell…. What about you Nick?… I heard about the Reserve."

"I've been better," he said with a wry smile. "Who told you? I thought you've been asleep this whole time."

Sara shook her head slowly, "I woke up…uh…I'm not so sure how long ago. Grissom told me what'd happened."

Aah, so that's why you've been crying, Nick thought.

"You scared me just now Sar. Don't do that again," he said sternly.

She frowned, "What?"

Nick's frown matched hers, "You don't remember?" Sara shook her head slowly.

"Your heart rate spiked and your heart stopped beating… Sara, you died."

X

Grissom sighed and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a migraine coming on and reached down into his drawer in search of his painkillers. His fingers closed around the bottle and he didn't hesitate to pop it open and swallow two of the small tablets. He took a deep breath and a sip of coffee from the mug on his desk before turning his attention back to the report he was writing. It had been a hectic shift, with Warrick taking on two new cases while Greg hurried to wrap up the case he and Sara had been working. But with the loss of his mentor in the midst of his return to confidence, he'd made a number of rather silly mistakes and so, Grissom had been forced to take over Sara's guiding role. Everybody was tense and anxious to find out what Days had concluded as to Nick and Catherine's attack and, to make matters worse, a wad of employee Cost to Living Adjustment forms had arrived on Grissom's desk, leaving him with a mountain of work.

He managed to write two lines about his blood evidence findings before stopping. Somehow, he just couldn't get her off his mind. Sara. Every time somebody walked past his office he looked up, hoping that it would be her, peeking into his office to update him on a case; just dropping in to submit a completed report – or maybe to wake him up from this nightmare. With a twist of regret in his chest he remembered the days when she'd enter his office for other reasons: to chat, to ask his advice, to tell him stories – to invite him to dinner. No, I put a deadening stop to that, he thought.

Her doll's face from earlier danced in his mind's eye and he shook it off and forced his eyes back to his report. But in the back of his mind, he wondered how she was doing, whether she was sleeping – or perhaps reading the Journal he'd left for her.

A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to find Jim Brass standing in that doorway.

"Guess what?" Brass said, moving forward to take a seat on the other side of Grissom's desk.

Grissom sighed. He wasn't in the right mood for guessing games.

"What?" he asked flatly.

"The guy who attacked Catherine and Nicky is Jacob Messina, 52. He recently escaped from the West Las Vegas Mental Institute. Multiple Personality Disorder, compulsive liar, ex-coke addict obsessive compulsive, the list goes on." Brass rattled off. "The guy's a crackpot. He was in a correctional facility for fives years, declared 'cured' and then two years ago he was convicted and sentenced to Life for bleeding his wife to death and hanging her from the second floor landing of the nearest apartment building. Apparently he has a big thing for blood too. Hell we could fill an entire mental asylum with this guy alone!"

Grissom took a deep breath, "Can he be held accountable for his actions?"

"The DA's going to file. I mean, Jesus, Gil, I saw Nick's gun when the guys from Days were processing it. The guy shot it clean out of his hand – he's obviously a damn good shot; and obviously dangerous."

"We expect them to either be crazy or skilled; never both," Grissom completed.

"Yeah," Brass nodded. He looked seriously at Grissom and asked, "So how are the guys doing? I spoke to Catherine before shift and she said that Nicky and Sara are still in Desert Palms."

"They seem to be okay," Grissom said. "The guys and I are going over after shift. You should come with us."

"Thanks, I will," Brass paused then looked Grissom in the eye and asked, "And how are you holding up?"

Grissom gave a heavy sigh and looked down at his desk, "Fine. I'm…concerned about them. Nick's not going to be able to go out into the field until his leg has healed and Sara…well, I don't know." Grissom's eyes met Brass's and he repeated, softly, "I just don't know."

Brass sighed. "How long is it going to take you to get over yourself?" he asked accusingly.

Grissom frowned, hoping to fool Brass into thinking that he didn't know what he was talking about, "What do you mean Jim?"

But the police captain would have none of it and saw straight through his attempt to mask his understanding, "Don't act like you don't know Gil. I've seen the way you look at Sara…the way she looks at you. Damn it, we've all seen it. I might be old, but I'm not blind."

Grissom was silent for a few moments, less shocked by what Brass was saying that by the fact that he was openly speaking it. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Yes, I trust Sara. And yes, we…connect. We see eye to eye. But this is not right. We have a history, yes, but that's where it ends. We've had our time"

Brass's lips curled with disgust and he shook his head , "'Had your time'?" He scoffed, "What the hell does that mean. Yeah, so you dated, fooled around – whatever- in San Francisco all those years ago. That's not what matters. You're both here _now_! Watching each other, wanting each other, tiptoeing around the issue! Hell, you stayed at that hospital the whole day so don't try to tell me that you don't feel anything for her. Now's the time to decide Gil – do you want Sara or not?"

"I…" Grissom was shocked speechless.

"Because I've watched her get hurt too many times by your damn passive-aggressiveness."

Grissom took a breath and forced himself to be calm.

"It doesn't matter what I want Jim. I'm too old for Sara. She's young, dynamic and me, well I'm old and far too set in my ways," he tried to argue. "She belongs with a man her own age."

"Well, if you'd taken your head out of your microscope long enough to notice her, you'd know that every guy her age that she's dated has left her with a broken heart," Brass countered.

Grissom felt a stab of pain for Sara, and regret that he hadn't been there for her. Been there for her, Gil? his mind ranted. You didn't even know about it!

"That doesn't prove that she should be with an old man." Grissom said sternly, still hoping to swing things in his favour.

"And what if she _wants_ an old man? What if she wants you?"

Once again, Grissom was lost for words. How could he respond to that without revealing how he'd been feeling all along? Really, what if she wanted him? He'd been sure that she'd given up on them; that what they now shared was purely platonic. By the time he'd realised how he felt about her, he'd been sure that she no longer wanted him – and now this._ She wants me?_

Grissom shook off the thought. Feelings aside, he was still her boss. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked Brass in the eye, "I don't know Jim. I don't know what you want me to say to you."

Brass's face softened, "Say that you won't hurt her."

X

Sara cast a glance at the clock hanging over the door to the ward. 07:30am. It was the third time she'd looked at it in the last twenty minutes and it wouldn't be the last. Shift had ended a half-hour before and she was wondering if the others were going to visit. She was also anxious to find out whether or not Grissom would be joining them. He'd said that he would, but after their rather uncomfortable goodbye, she was beginning to have her doubts. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure whether or not she wanted him to come. After he'd left, she'd made up her mind to get over him once and for all. If he was able to discard the connection between them as easily as he had, there was no doubt as to his not wanting a relationship. Their shared breakfasts had given her hope – but now she knew that she had no reason to have any. Grissom didn't want her.

"Hey Sar," Nick called from the bed beside hers. "If you're not going to read that, can I?" He nodded towards that Forensics Journal on the table between them and she nodded.

"Go wild," she said softly.

"Hello again!" a cheery voice called from the doorway. Sara didn't even bother to look; she knew who it was. The nurses had been into the ward every half-hour since her heart had given out, checking her pulse and keeping a very close watch on her. She listened as the woman, who was obviously on morning rounds, went to Nick first and began asking how he'd slept – as if he had, being a graveyard CSI.

Sara rolled onto her side, ignoring the lameness she felt in her muscles with her change of position, and stared blankly out the window. She felt a great deal better she had the previous day, her fever having eased during the night. The nausea was also wearing off so that all that remained was lame, weak feeling in her muscles and the pain of the bites on her shoulder. The night had gone well and she'd slept soundly after her supposed death, with no further heart complications. She'd woken around midnight to find Nick watching a late night movie and spent the rest of the night channel-flipping with him. There weren't many good shows on – yet another disadvantage of working graveyard shift and not being able to sleep at night.

The sky outside was a dull grey, and although the clouds outside weren't nearly as dark as the previous day's, a 60 chance of rain had been forecast. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling bored, frustrated – disillusioned.

There was a knock on the doorframe. Sara twisted in bed to find Greg entering the room, a huge bunch of lilies in his arms. Behind him was Jim Brass.

"Flowers for the beautiful girl," Greg grinned winningly and handed them to her. Her arms protested under the weight of the bunch and she felt a streak of frustration run through her. Dr. Morgan had said she'd be weak, but this was ridiculous.

"Thank you Greg," she smiled. "They're beautiful."

"Hey," Nick frowned, "What about me?"

"Sorry Nick," Greg shrugged, "I tried to bring you a steak but they wouldn't let me bring it in here. Dunno why."

At Nick's bedside, the nurse let out a small chuckle before bowing her head to fill out his chart.

"Hey Dollface," Brass called cheerfully as he went over to Sara's bed.

She smiled back and uttered a genial "Hey! It's good to see you."

"You too," he returned the smile. "How're you kids doing?"

"Much better," the nurse interrupted. "_One _of them might not be here much longer." She cast a serious look at Sara and winked at Nick before going back to her writing.

"Great," Brass nodded happily and turned to Nick and Sara, rolling his eyes at the woman's presumptuousness. "And how do you two feel?"

Nick and Sara grumbled brief responses, both trying to downplay their condition.

Brass managed to believe Nick's "Good, man. I'll be on my feet in no time. Feeling great." but shook his head when Sara tried to say the same thing. He looked at her seriously and said, "I heard about what happened to you yesterday afternoon: doesn't sound like you're as peppy as you're pretending to be. "

Sara sighed irritably and rolled her eyes. She was tired of people worrying about her, sick of people watching her, wondering when her heart would stop again. She was sick of people checking her pulse and asking how she was feeling; sick of Desert Palms – and sick of people telling her that she wasn't taking her condition seriously. The heart thing, well, that had been unexpected, but it wasn't like she was a total invalid. The more people treated her like one, the harder it was for her to ignore the pain and weakness in her body; something she was desperately trying to do. She decided to change the topic.

"So…is Grissom coming?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent.

Brass opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted.

"Hi," A familiar voice came from the doorway.

Sara winced and pushed herself into a sitting position. She turned to the door and found him standing there, looking worn-out, dishevelled and remorseful. His eyes bored into her, icy blue easily penetrating warm brown and a thousand feelings rushed through her at once. He was there again, seeing into her soul with those haunting eyes of his. Not that his being there should have been anything out of the norm. He was a supervisor – a _friend_- simply visiting to say hi and check up on them. Nothing special there. All she had to do was be friendly – no passion was to be felt anymore needed. Then why was he looking at her with such intensity? Why was she suddenly feeling the tingles that had run through her when he'd held her hand the previous night? Why did she suddenly want to start crying all over again?

And why could she feel her heart beginning to beat faster in her chest? No, not beat - pound! Faster and faster. Her eyes stayed locked with his, emotions flying between them, and suddenly her breathing became erratic and rapid, increasing until she was gasping for air in short breaths. The passion that had been in his eyes moments before turned to concern and he stepped forward, distressed, but unsure of what to do. A trembling hand went to her heart as the steady beeping of her heart rate monitor began to speed up. The nurse immediately dropped Nick's chart and rushed over. Sara's breathing grew worse until only limited oxygen trickled into her lungs and cells, making her feel faint. She squeezed her eyes closed, and let herself fall back onto the pillows, her weakened body unable to cope.

"Sara!" she heard Greg's voice cry.

She felt the nurse grab her wrist to check her pulse but didn't care. She couldn't find the strength to move her arm anyway. Every bit of strength was draining to her heart and her body numbed.

"Whoa! Miss Sidle!" the nurse said in a calm but firm voice, "Deep breaths. Easy. Try to calm down. Deep breaths. Try to focus. Force your heart to slow down! "

But her voice was growing distant and Sara didn't even try to hear it. Chaos descended on her mind, whirling around, dizzying her and she lost focus and allowed herself to be drawn to the darkness descending on her. _He doesn't want you anyway,_ her mind sang. She winced, trying to block the chant from her thoughts.

Suddenly a clear voice penetrated the darkness. "Sara!"

It was him.

"Sara, honey. You've got to calm down."

His voice was tense, forcibly calm but somehow, he managed to pierce through the chaos and she frowned, forcing air out of her lungs so she could breathe deeper.

"That's it. Just take deep breaths." _He doesn't want you! _She tried ignore the words and make her racing heart slow but her efforts failed and squeezed her eyes tightly. A slow ache began to burn in her chest and she felt hot tears running down her cheeks as her body grew hotter with the exertion.

"Sara!" his voice rang out again, "Sara, look at me! Open your eyes and look at me!"

She managed to force her eyes half open and squinted through the tears. She found him next to her bed, gripping her hand with panic in his eyes – panic, and deep concern.

"That's right, good. Now calm down. Breathe deep. You've got to do this for me Sara."

He gave her hand a sharp squeeze and she managed to focus on him, putting all her energy into breathing slower. Gradually, it worked and it grew less difficult to breathe deeply. The beeping began to slow and Sara felt her body relaxing.

"Good, Sara. You're doing great sweetie," Grissom soothed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Easy. Just breathe."

Nearby, Greg, Nick and Brass were staring, speechless, horrified and amazed at what was happening. In his mind, Nick was reliving the way Grissom had calmed him down when he'd been buried alive. He was doing the same for Sara now and Nick felt a shimmer of pride run through him: he was proud to be one of Grissom's CSIs.

The nurse stood completely awestruck. Never before had she seen anything like this. She'd been almost certain that Sara Sidle's heart was going to stop again, given the speed at which it was beating. But as the young woman's heart slowed to a calm, steady pace, she found herself staring unabashedly at the man gripping the brunette's hand.

He gently stroked her hair and let his hand run down to rest against her cheek He gave her an encouraging smile and said softly, "That's my girl."

**A/N Okay, now please tell me what you think! You know it'll bring the next chapter faster and, trust me, there's a light at the end of the tunnel for Grissom :)**


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